Love is Christmas

Last Christmas Eve, was my first without my daughters.

I planned for it. I ran errands until late afternoon. I saved all of the wrapping for that evening. I made arrangements to meet my friend at Church for the late service in our hometown.

It was a good plan and I enjoyed the peacefulness and purpose of the night before me.

Then the song came on, "Love is Christmas" by Sarah Bareilles

Something about it spoke to a quiet place in my heart.

I don't care if the carpet's stained  //there's food upon the table//I don't care if it's gonna rain our little room is warm and stable

I am grateful for the memories of Christmas past. 

For myself and my daughters. For our families.

Thankful we sat at the table with four generations. 

Thankful I learned what it is to anticipate drama or conflict over silly things due to the dynamic in families forced together by marriage. 

Thankful to have known the preparations, expectations and challenges that go along with all of this. 

why so scared that you'll mess it up when perfection keeps you haunted, 

all we need is your best my love that's all anyone ever wanted. 

Thankful too; that as our family grew smaller and then divided, we remained thankful and continued to see the blessings as opposed to mourning the family gatherings that were no more.

We still take comfort in our traditions, lights and decorations. Baking together, Christmas crafts and choosing gifts for those we love, just on a much smaller scale. 

I hope that my girls know as I do, that although these things are a part of how we celebrate Christmas, the absence of any of them in no way takes away from the joy that is in Christmas.

The joy that is present simply by embracing one another and being thankful just for that. 

Love is not a toy and no paper will conceal it//love is simply joy that I'm home.

Its not that I didn't feel a darkness briefly - the one that suggests somehow that Christmas could not be celebrated in the absence of the familiar chaos of extended family and multiple dinners, chairs at the table and endless commitments. 

I can still remember the pain in my heart that first Christmas Day, two years ago.

The tears, and loneliness that overcame me as I dropped my children off at their Daddy's.

Arriving home to an empty house and a full glass of wine. 

I steamed the carpets with otherworldly determination, 

I don't care if the carpet's stained  //there's food upon the table 

I paused and aimed the ipad at the ceiling to hide the tears on my face as my girls excitedly reported over facetime, the gifts that Santa had left at Daddy's house too.

Love is not a toy and no paper will conceal it

Finally I worked the courage up to go to my parents house for our humble dinner of three.

My father is unwell. My brother is estranged from them. There was a heaviness in the air but it felt ok. We were, afterall, together. 

I was relieved that it went well and felt a little ashamed of myself that I had secretly wished to stay home with another glass of wine and more carpets to clean.

why so scared that you'll mess it up when perfection keeps you haunted

I reminded myself that my children were safe and loved and healthy with their Dad.

This was new, and unfamiliar but still I felt our blessings that day were many and were found in being with one another, although in a newly fragmented way.

As I left my parents home that Christmas night, the home where I grew up, I remember my Mother moving briefly into a place, where the darkness of regret and loss can cause you to speak in a way that doesn't serve the moment for the better. 

Anger about estranged relationships, bewilderment and lack of acceptance that I could be there with her, without her grandchildren. On Christmas.

"I don't know what kind of Mother can go home and sleep on Christmas night when her babies aren't with her"...she said, or something like that. 

I think I may have left my own body for a moment as I hugged and kissed and thanked her and chose not to allow my own sadness and hurt to make the moment worse.

why so scared that you'll mess it up when perfection keeps you haunted,

I did taste the darkness that day and I would be lying if I said I hadn't since.

I am pleased to report that although I tasted it, I did not feed upon it.

I observed it and I allowed it to pass. 

all we need is your best my love that's all anyone ever wanted. 

In that moment, I did my best. 

love is simply joy that I am home

The following year, last year, I was able to face the holiday at peace within myself. 

Thankful for the choice I had. For the choice I made. For the blessings that are many. For every quiet moment with friends, my daughters and alone. 

love is who we are and no season can contain it/love would never fall for that/

let love lead us/love is Christmas.